"STOP!"
Under the shading trees the time flew fast. It is ever thus in the sylvan glades where love abides:
"… The halcyon hours with double swiftness run
And in the splendour of Arcadian summers
The quicker climb the coursers of the sun."
Athlyne and Joy sat in a gentle rapture of happiness. She had made him draw up his cushion close to her so that she could lean against him. They sat hand in hand for a while, and then one arm stole round her and drew her close to him. She came yieldingly, as though such a moment had been ordained since the beginning of the world. Her hand stole inside his arm and held him tight; and so they sat locked together, with their faces so close that their mouths now and again met in long, sweet kisses. More than once was asked by either the old question of lovers—which has no adequate or final answer: "Do you love me?" And at each such time the answer was given in the fashion which ruled in Eden—and ever since.
Presently Athlyne, drawing Joy closer than ever to him, said:
"Joy darling there is something I want to say to you!" He paused; she drew him closer to her, and held him tighter. She realised that his voice had changed a little; he was under some nervousness or anxiety. This woke the protective instinct which is a part of woman's love.
"We love each other?"
"I do!" As she spoke she looked at him with her great gray eyes blazing. He kissed her:
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